Jl "Playlet Vo "Promote Soldiers' "Play 



Mrs. Minnie Clarke Budlong 

and 

Charlotte Matson 

Public Library Commission 

Bismarck, North Dakota 




For Presentation in Schools and Communities 
With Special Reference to the 



October, 1918 



CHARACTERS 

John Hooper The Father 

Mary Hooper The Mother 

Agnes Young Lady Daughter 

Jack About 14 

Billy 12 

The first scene is sufficient for one item in an evening 
program. It can be extended to form the entire entertain- 
ment by using Scene 2. 

SCENE 1. 

The interior of a modern farm home, with a piano, or 
victrola, and a table. On the wall is a framed picture of a 
soldier, with the flags of the United States and the Allies 
draped above it. There is a service flag in the window, also 
the insignia of the Red Cross, Liberty Loan, etc. When the 
curtain goes up the mother sits at the table knitting — the 
daughter holds a hat in her hand, looking at it dubiously. The 
larger boy is sprawled out on the floor, absorbed in a book — 
the other boy is doing some figuring at the table, with much 
scowling and rumpling of hair. 

SCENE 2. 

Stage of a school house or small hall. Rehearsal for enter- 
tainment to be given for U. W. W. C. The characters in Scene 
1, with as many others as are desired, take part. 

Recitations by characters dressed to represent each of the 
seven organizations. 

Patriotic songs, in some of which the audience joins. 

Living posters. (The A. L. A. posters are easily adapted to 
presentation: i. e. the soldier sitting at ease reading, the 
soldier collecting a pile of books, etc.) 

Victrola selections. 

In place of character recitations brief addresses may be 
given for each organization by its county chairman or dis- 
trict director. 



The United War Work Campaign (U. W. W. C.) is being 
conducted by the 
National War Council of the Y. M. C. A. 
War Work Council of the Y. W. C. A. 
National Catholic War Council. (K. of C.) 
Jewish Welfare Board. 

War Camp Community Service (W. C. C. S.) 
American Library Association (A. L. A.) 
Salvation Army. 









Agnes. Hoover himself couldn't do anything with this hat. 
Seems to me after three winters for one five dollar hat I 
really am entitled to a new one. Don't you think so? 

Mother. Yes, if you can't make it do again. 

Agnes. Well, I might, of course, but the crown's too low 
for this season and I'm tired to death of the old thing. I know 
its supposed to be fashionable to go shabby this year, but I 
notice all the girls are getting new winter hats just the same. 

Mother. Yes, you have done your duty by that old hat, 
and do need a new one I suppose. Thank goodness, I'm not 
so stylish that I can't wear my old clothes again What is 
it Billy? 

Billy, (Has been muttering to himself and struggling with 
some figures). Say, if I get four and a quarter a week from 
my paper route and I pay a dollar a week for my share of 
our Liberty Bonds and fifty cents for thrift stamps and a 
dollar and a quarter on my new bike, how much am I going 
to have to run on? One and one-fifty and one and a quarter 
and — 

Jack. (Answers without looking up from his paper). Dol- 
lar an' a half. 

Mother. But what's this about a bicycle? You boys have 
a bicycle already. 

Billy. Half a one — that's no fun. Jack always wants it 
when I do, and Ted Jones will sell me his for fifteen dollars, 
by the week. It's a peach — 'most new — with a coaster brake 
and a Klaxon and everything. 

Mother. But you really don't need it, and anyway I don't 
want you to get anything like that without asking your 
father, especially these hard times. 

Billy. (Jumps up). Here's dad now. 

(Enter father, with a big bundle, his hands full of mail 
which Billy distributes while his father takes off his coat, 
assisted by Agnes.) 

Father. Hello, everybody. Fine night, but v/e're going to 
have a hard frost. I emptied the radiator — don't want the old 
machine freezing up this time of the year. 

Billy. Here's your Boy's Monthly, Jack. I'll leave you 
the papers, dad. What's in the big bundle? Anything for me? 

Father. Yarn for Mother. They want sweaters now, and 
Mrs. Thompson says that their quota of socks has been in- 
creased to 500 pairs a month and I told her I guess my 
wife'd have to sit up nights if she knits any more than she^ 
does now. She sent Agnes three of those shirts that are to 
be split up the back, or up the front or whatever they aren't 
now. Directions are with them. 

Agnes. Any letters, Daddy? 

Billy. Two for you. One says Y .M. C. A. on it — bet I. 



know who that's from. The other looks like Cousin Ruth's 
sloppy writing. Wonder what she's got to say. Here, catch. 
(Tosses them to Agnes, who opens them eagerly). 

Mother. None from Jimmie? 

Billy. N-no. Yes there is, too. It's for Jack, tho. 

(Jack rises, opens his letter in great excitement, and the 
family stops all operations and listens while he reads it.) 

Jack. Reads, "Dear Jack. It's your turn for a letter this 
time. There's not much to tell you. We are still where we 
were the last time I wrote when i told mother all about it and 
the place and the people. Tell her that little Jean can sing 
a whole verse of the Star-Spangled Banner now. Wish I 
could learn French as fast as these kids learn to talk English. 
We aren't allowed to tell much. We haven't been as busy 
as usual and have so much time on our hands. I tell you 
Jack, you're lucky to have all the books you want. How 
would you like to be stranded where there's almost nothing to 
read? We read what we have to shreds and then there's 
never enough. I wish I had a chance at our old town library 
again, or even the books at home. Here it's a scramble to 
get even part of a book. Did you ever read Scottish Chiefs? 
I never did until I got hold of it here ,and then if some boob 
hadn't lost the end and I haven't been able to find out yet 
what was in that casket. Suppose I never will until we lick 
the Kaiser and come home. It's not only story books we 
want either. They've started classes to study for promotion 
and I'm studying harder than I ever did at school and we 
need a lot of math books — wish I had some of the old ones I 
packed away after I got through with them. Your're such an 
old book-worm, kid, that I know you'll appreciate how it is. 
I never had time to read books when I was in college. 

Bernt has been in the hospital — had the mumps — fine 
heroic thing to have — not! He told me he nearly had a fit 
one day. They gave him scrap books to read, full of pictures 
and funny stories and if one of them didn't have a picture 
of his home town with his old gang standing in front of his 
dad's store. He was so tickled he almost forgot that he 
was sick. 

I've got some souvenirs to send you and Billy the first time 
I get a chance — a German helmet and belt I got from a Fritz 
prisoner for a package of cigarets and some chocolate. Tell 
Sis I'll write her next. And tell mother I've gained five 
pounds more and feel like a fighting cock. Love to all. 
Jimmie." 

(No one speaks for a moment. Their eyes wander to the 
picture of the soldier.) 

Jack. (Draws a long breath). Gee — no books. Why, I'd die. 

Billy. Poor old Jimmie. 

Agnes. They all tell the same story. That's just what 
Charles says in the letter too. His ship was stationed for 
several weeks at some little island in the Aegean Sea, and he 
says his men got so desperate for something new to read that 
they nearly went crazy — even saved and read the labels on 
tomato cans because they had English words on them. 

Billy. Well, folks, that's easy. Why can't we just pack up 



some books and send them over to Jimmie — Charles, too. 
I'm sure we've got lots we can spare. Let's do that. 

Agnes. How, I'd like to know! You can't even send a box 
of fudge and when Jim wanted new razor blades he had to 
get an order from his Major. 

BilUy. Mean old things. 

Agnes. Goodness, Billy, if everyone sent whatever they 
wanted to there wouldn't be any room for the other things 
they need — food and clothes and guns for the soldiers, or 
even room for the soldiers themselves. 

Father. (Looks up from his paper). Great Scott! Here we 
just got through with Liberty Bonds and now there is another 
drive. What's this about a United War Work Campaign of 
seven big organizations? You know anything about it, mother? 

Mother. No-o — I don't believe — tho come to think of it I 
did hear them talking about something like that yesterday 
at surgical dressing. 

Jack. Oh, I know, Dad . I've been reading about it. They 
are all the things that help to make the soldiers comfortable 
and do the things for them that the Government hasn't time 
to do— the Y. M. C. A. and the Y. W. and the Knights of 
Columbus. 

Billy. Oh, yes, I know — the Salvation Army and the Jews 
and the War- War 

Jack. War Camp Community Service and the A. L. A. I 
don't know what that is, tho. 

Agnes. Well, I do. Ruth's a librarian and she is in a camp 
library and that's the American Library Association. 

Billy. Well if there is a camp librarian why can't they 
furnish books to Jim and Charlie and all the rest of the 
fellows? That's their job, isn't it? 

Father. That's just what they do— so the paper says. 
Listen (Reads) "The Government has set aside in its ships 
for the A. L. A. 50 tons of storage space a month to be used 
in sending books to the soldiers. The A. L. A. is now asking 
for $3,500,000 to purchase books." 

Mother. Why, they don't need to buy books. Don't you re- 
member we gave all our old ones last spring and the papers 
said 10,000 were sent from this state alone? 

Jack. But what's 10,000 books when we have already sent 
25,000 soldiers? 

Mother. Three and a half millions would buy more books 
than any one could ever read. 

Jack. It wouldn't be a book apiece for our three million 
soldiers. 

Agnes. There's lots to be done besides just buying books. 
I visited Ruth's library when I was in the city and it takes 
people and supplies and time. 

Billly. What for? Don't they just buy the books and shoot 
them over? 

Agnes, They have to choose the books and order them and 
unpack them when they come from the publisher and make 
cards for them and put in pockets and pack them again to 
ship across the sea . And it takes cases to put them in, 
and that all costs money, and they have to have central build- 



ings to keep them in while they are getting them ready to 
send out to the rest houses and hospitals and huts. 

Father. Seems to be a lot to it, then, besides just the books. 
And the three and a half million the A. L. A. want for books 
is only a drop in the bucket. A hundred and seventy and a 
half millions is wanted for the whole United War Work 
Campaign, as they call it. The Y. M. C. A. wants 100 mil- 
lions and Y. W. 15 millions. 

Jack. Well, they do the biggest work. Why, don't you 
know the things Jimmie has said about the Y., that it was the 
greatest thing ever happened — when he was in camp and after 
he got across. He writes all his letters there — and I guess 
there are mighty few folks now-a-days that don't get letters 
with that little red triangle in the corner. Those little huts 
are everywhere. You remember. Bill, that news movie we 
went to last week. There was a Y. M. C. A. dugout right 
in the trenches and they say the men go everywhere, and 
carry cigarettes and things to soldiers and even go right 
where they are fighting. Wasn't it a Y. man who carried 
Phil Dunlap in when he was wounded and saved his life? 
I guess nobody begrudges the Y. M. C. A. anything, or the 
Y. W., either. 

Billy. Y. W. Young Women — what's that got to do with 
war, I'd like to know. A lot of women messing around an 
army — fine idea! 

Mother. I can tell you about the Y. W. C. A. What do you 
suppose I would have done when I went down to camp to 
see Jimmie last winter when he had pneumonia? The Hostess 
House was just like home — they just took care of me. I 
think I should have died without it. I was so homesick and 
worried. 

Agnes. Curtis and Jean were married in a hostess house, 
too. 

Mother, Well, I should say so! There were five weddings 
there one afternoon — the hostess even got the minister for 
them, and I was v/itness for two of them. And there was 
a baby christened there one day — cute, fat, little fellow — 
looked just like Billy did when he was a baby. The father 
was a big boy not any older than our Jimmie — crazy about 
the baby, too — he had never seen it. The poor little mother 
was only a girl. I saw her when she got there, she was tired 
out and just about scared to death — had spent all her money 
and the baby was crying and she didn't know how to find 
her husband. She just followed some folks to the Hostess 
House by chance and she told me that her troubles just drop- 
ped away — it was like heaven to her. And you should see 
the vray those boys rlocked in, just to talk to the hostess 
woman. She said she thought one boy cut his buttons off 
to get an excuse to have her sew them on again. It's no mis- 
take to give the Y. W. C. A. money — those women won't 
waste it. 

Jack. Then there's the Knights of Columbus — that's the 
Catholic society, you know. 

Billy. Vv^hy can't the Catholics write letters and do all 
those things in the Y. M. C. A. houses and smoke anybody's 

—6— 



cigarettes? It seems foolish to have Catholic and Y. M. huts 
separate. If I was a soldier — 

Jack. Quit your knocking. If you were a soldier — a nice 
little Methodist soldier like you'd be — how'd you like to go 
to church in a Catholic hut and not have any minister or any 
place of your own? There's more to it than cigarettes and a 
place to write letters and loaf. I guess the boys have a right 
to their own religion. If Pat Flynn wants to go to Mass, 
it's up to the rest of us to see that he has a place to go to 
Mass in. And the Jews — they want three and a half million, 
too, and I think they deserve it. If that little Ikey Schwartz 
who keeps the junk store on Main Street was brave enough 
to go and fight for us, I say he should have a church of his own 
as well as any of the other boys. 

Father. Right you are! But what I don't see is what the 
Salvation Army has got to do with it. They want three and 
a half million, too. What for? To parade the street with a 
band collecting a crowd of bums? They can all go to some 
of the others huts, can't they? 

Jack. Have you forgotten that story the lecturer told last 
winter? How arrangements had been made to take care of 
the soldiers at one of the camps by their own denominations 
and they asked the Presbyterians all to come one way and 
the Methodists and the Baptists and so forth, all the churches, 
the Catholics and the Jews and everyone, and then the Sal- 
vation Army men said "I'll take what is left for my share," 
and more than half of them were left! Then the officer 
said "But we have no accommodations in camp for the Sal- 
vation Army" and the leader said "I'll take care of them 
outside of camp, then." That's the kind they are! 

Agnes. And don't you remember that letter Jimmie wrote 
after he had been in the trenches the first time? He said there 
was a Salvation Army lassie there frying doughnuts in a dug- 
out and it smelled like home and she looked like an angel. 
All the fellows think the Salvation Army is the real stuff. 

Billy. I vote for them, too. What's the next. 

Jack. War Camp Community Service. They want fifteen 
millions. That's what furnishes the fun — shows and movies 
and prize fights and all the rest. Those fellows have to play 
sometimes and that bosses the play and gives them some- 
thing to play with. They even send fine actors over to France 
to give entertainments for them. 

Agnes. Yes, I saw in the Red Cross magazine that Elsie 
Janis has been over there since Spring acting for the boys. 

Mother. Remember, Father? We saw her the last time 
we were in Chicago. My, how you did laugh! I hope Jimmie 
gets a chance to see her. 

Father. You bet I remember Elsie. If they are sending her 
over to amuse the boys, it's sure all right. You know the 
old saying about all work and no play makes — 

Billy. Makes Sammie a dull boy. Of course we want the 
soldiers to play. It's up to us to see that Jimmie is amused, 
anyway. 

Mother. Is that all? 

Agnes. Except what's in Ruth's letter about the A. L. A. 



She's at Camp Loomis now, and listen to what she says 
(Reads) "This is the most interesting and busiest place I 
ever imagined. We have hundreds of men in here a day and 
they want everything from joke books to the most scientific 
text books. Why in one day we had calls for books on psy- 
chology, refrigeration, a love story with a happy ending, even 
Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch. The old sergeant that 
took that out thought it was a book on gardening, but said 
it was a mighty good book and he enjoyed it anyway. Some 
fellows read two books every day, and I'm sure a lot of boys 
who never read a book through before they came to camp, 
are getting to be regular patrons of ours. They say the 
soldiers in France are more eager for books than the ones 
here. It's going to take a lot of money to furnish something 
for all our millions of soldiers to read, but if it's going to 
make them happier and more comfortable of course we're 
going to give it." 

Father. How much will you give, boy? 

Billy. Who? Me? Well, I'm about busted. If I get my — 
Gee I suppose I don't have to have a bike — not until the 
war's over, anyway. I'll give that fifteen dollars I was 
planning to invest in that — a dollar and a quarter a week — 
then my share that goes to Jimmie will be enough to buy 
him a book for Christmas, anyway. 

Jack. I've got ten dollars left since we bought our bond. 
That can go, but I can't let Bill beat me. I've got to give 
something up — but I don't know what unless — yes, I'll give 
up my magazines — I can do that much for Jimmie. I'll give 
up the Boys' Monthly and my Weekly. 

Agnes. Oh, not the Weekly, Jack. Why, we've had that 
ever since Jim was a baby. 

Father. I should say so — longer than that. I started that 
when I was six. I don't think we could get along without 
that, either. 

Billy. Sure we could — for Jimmie and the rest of our 
soldiers. 'Course it will be hard. But Gee — isn't thiswarl 
Anyway we can borrow Ted Jones' or get it from the library 
— what's a library for? 

Jack. Yes we can. But that will be a real sacrifice for all 
of us, won't it. Mother? 

Mother. Yes it will. Son. I'm going to give that new 
washing machine Dad promised me. The old one's in pretty 
bad shape but if you boys will help with the washing — 

Billy. You bet we will. Mother. And every time I turn 
the crank I'll think "Here's another page for Jimmie." 

Agnes. Well I see my nice black velour sailor hat going 
up in smoke. I'll join the shabby club and make my old hat 
do another winter. 

Father. And I will chip in as much as the rest of you 
give. I guess we can't do too much for our boys, can we 
folks? 

Billy. No sir! You know that poster that says "They gave 
their lives— what did you give?" Well, that's right. We've 
got to give or we'll be ahsamed to look Jimmie in the face 
after he comes back from Berlin, or let Agnes marry Charles 

—8— 



after he gets out of the navy. War Savings Stamps and 
Liberty Bonds are nothing. Jack and I will get all that 
money back when we are men — more than we put in it, too. 
All we can do to help them is to give money to make them 
comfortable, and if it is books and all the rest of these things 
they want it's up to the Hooper family to dig right in and 
get 'em books. No slackers in this house, you can just bet! 

Agnes. All we can give won't buy books for many soldiers. 
How can we get more people interested in it so they v/ill 
help? 

Mother. Talk about it at Red Cross and Aid Society and — 

Agnes. Oh I know. We'll give an entertainment to have 
this all explained and to help raise money for the United War 
Work Campaign. 

Mother. That will be fine. But now it's past bedtime for 
the boys and we must have our sing and send them off to 
sleep with some patriotic music to mix with their dreams. 

(Agnes goes to piano and plays accompaniments or puts 
on Victrola records while all sing patriotic songs, ending 
with "U. S. A. Forever." 

Billy. This is the way the boys will be singing it after they 
hear about the three and a half million dollars v/orth of 
books that are coming. (Sings) 

It's the A. L. A, forever, 

Hooray! Hooray! 

I thank the band in the dear homeland 

That sends us boys the reading; 

Hooi-ay! I say. 

The A. L. A. forever. 

CURTAIN. 



_9_ 



RECITATION FOR BOY REPRESENTING AMERICAN 
LIBRARY ASSOCIATION. 

Why do soldiers want books? I thought they needed guns 
and sweaters and sugar and white flour. Tom did not read 
books when he was home. He has gone "over there" to fight 
and it must have changed him a lot for now he writes us to 
send him reading and "hurry up about it." Of course he can't 
go autoing, now, evenings, and there isn't any dance to go 
to, and he hasn't any girl to visit and maybe he does want 
something to do when his rest hour comes. He wrote he 
wanted an algebra and a trigonemetry and some travel and a 
love story and joke books. Why! When he came from 
college he threw those books in the farthest comer of the at- 
tic and said he never wanted to see them again ; and now he 
writes he needs them to study for his next examination. You 
see he wants to be an officer and they need to know a lot 
about mathematics. So do aviators. That's why Willie's 
brother wrote for some. And when it's been raining all day 
and they are cold and muddy and wet they want a good story 
or a funny joke to brace them up. We can't send books any 
more ourselves because the Government won't take parcels 
for soldiers, but it has given the American Library Associa- 
tion tonnage space for 50 tons of books a month and they buy 
books and get them ready and send them over and put them in 
Y. M. C. A. and K. of C. huts and Recreation Centers and 
Salvation Army barracks and anywhere else in camps and 
trenches that they will be handy for the boys. When a ship 
arrives there is a great rush to get the boxes of new books. 

Every soldier who sails from the U. S. is allowed to put one 
book in his pack, and they change books on ship board and 
read each others' and when they land on the other side they 
leave their book and take a new one. Tom wrote he had read 
25 books since he left home. It takes a lot of books when we 
have millions of soldiers. The American Library Association 
is asking for 3 1-2 million dollars to buy books and get them 
over to our boys. That is less than a dollar apiece, not one 
book to a soldier. I tell you what I'm going to do — I'm going 
to earn a dollar and give it to the A. L. A. to buy a book that 
Tom will like. I'll call it my Christmas present to him, and 
it will make him happy and lots of other boys' brothers who 
will read it, too. Won't you give something to buy books 
that will make our boys forget their troubles when they have 
a chance to read? 

You can give more than I can because you earn more and 
perhaps you have two or three brothers or sons over there 
and you will want them to have a book apiece so they can 
stretch out and read at ease, and not have to crowd up in a 
bunch to listen to one fellow read aloud the way they do now. 
They even cut books up now to make them go around and give 
one chapter to each fellow and sometimes you can't get the 
next chapter anywhere. So let's hurry up and see that every 
man has a book to himself by Christmas. 

MRS. M. C. BUDLONG, 

State Director, A. L. A. 
U. W. W. C. 



